


inevitability (and other hard truths)

by violetmessages



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s02e13 Exit Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28577109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetmessages/pseuds/violetmessages
Summary: There's a clock ticking down at Torchwood, and Gwen realizes she's the only one who hears it.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper & Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, all canon relationships in the background tho
Comments: 20
Kudos: 33





	inevitability (and other hard truths)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Nik for editing and Ruairidh for looking it over and titling it. You both are amazing, thanks for helping make this fic I wrote at 1am better. <3

Gwen sighed as she shrugged out of her ruined jacket, placing it gingerly on her desk. The torn sleeve mocked her, and she glared at it, wishing it would just magically fix itself. This was the third one this month. She winced as she sat down, rubbing at her bruised legs, which did absolutely nothing to ease the dull pain emanating from them.

It was unfortunate, but it had become a somewhat regular occurrence for her to go out of Weevil hunts alone. After Owen and Tosh - she spared a sad look and a loving touch to the picture of them taped to her desk - it had become commonplace for her to handle smaller threats alone. Small Rift Alerts and Weevil sightings could be dealt with alone; the only reason they used to go together was because it was much safer. 

Not like she had any delusions of safety anymore. Not after what happened. 

But she’d be damned if she had to put anything else on Jack and Ianto’s already overflowing plates. She was a grown woman, she could and would handle herself, and she didn’t need anyone’s help. 

Silently, Gwen rested her head on top of her ruined jacket, not even caring if she got mud on her hair anymore. All she wanted to do was rest. Choking back a sob as her bruised legs pressed uncomfortably against her chair, she pulled her arms around herself and seemingly melted into her desk, forehead against the muddy expanse of her ruined jacket. 

She shivered as the cold air of the Hub hit her uncovered arms and sniffled, the stress of the day finally hitting her. She had almost  _ died  _ today. She would have been dead. The Weevil came so close to ripping through her chest that had she not been quick and dodged so it ripped through her jacket instead, she would have bled out in a Cardiff alleyway. 

She wondered what they would have told her parents. Mugging? A robbery gone wrong? Would they have told Rhys the truth? What would they have put on her gravestone?

Would she even have a gravestone?

Gwen felt a tear drip off her face, and suddenly, she couldn’t stop it, stop the onslaught of tears that just kept coming and coming until she was openly sobbing in the middle of the Hub, with no one around, and it just wouldn’t stop. All the pent up rage and grief and fear and  _ emotion  _ that she had suppressed, put away because “there was work to be done,” came rushing out like a crack in a dam that had widened bit by bit until it had finally split open and the water gushed out, flowing violently, unable to be put back. 

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair, to her, to Ianto, to poor Tosh and Owen, and to Jack. They all deserved better; they all deserved the world, and Gwen wanted to give it to them, solve their problems, let them live happy fulfilled lives, but she couldn’t - she just couldn’t because Tosh and Owen had died young and Ianto was going to die young and she could have  _ died  _ today, died at thirty, before either of her parents or even her grandmother who was clutching onto life by her fingernails. She would have died and had to be buried. Buried by Rhys and Ianto and Jack and the rest of her family, her family that would have cried for her, grieved for her. 

Buried. 

Suddenly, hands brushed up against her hair, and she jerked up, looking wildly around to see who it was. 

“Ianto,” she choked out. “Sorry, it’s nothing, I just - sorry-”

“-Gwen,” he said softly, looking at her with Sad Eyes. She hated that she’d put that expression on his face; he didn’t deserve to ever look like that, especially not because of her. 

“Sorry,” she said, hastily rubbing away her tears with the flat of her hands, wincing as she pressed harshly against her skin. Ianto grasped her hands with his own and set them firmly down by her side. 

Then, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit, he pulled out a small blue handkerchief and gently wiped her face, cleaning off the mud and tears that stained it. She sniffled as he worked diligently, and when he was done, he tossed it onto her ruined jacket. 

“Gwen,” he said patiently. “What’s wrong?”

“My jacket is ruined,” she said, rather stupidly. “It got ripped.”

“I can see that,” said Ianto, looking down at her. “Is that why you were crying?”

Gwen didn’t respond, simply looking past him. She felt another tear drip down her face, and Ianto brushed it away softly with the pad of his thumb. 

“Gwen,” he repeated. “Please talk to me.”

Guiltily, she looked up at him. He was wearing his patient look, again with the Sad Eyes, ones that didn’t seem to go away. Ianto had never been particularly forthcoming about any of his feelings without a fair amount of prodding, but it had never been the case the other way around. Whenever Gwen was angry or sad, she’d never made it a secret. You could tell since she tended to get quite...explosive. 

Hesitantly, she stood up, mindful of her bruised legs, and wrapped herself around Ianto. He tensed for a split second, like he always did, but then relaxed and let Gwen melt into him. He rubbed her back delicately as she sobbed into his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” she gasped when she was done crying, still not letting go. “I ruined your suit.”

“It’s just a suit,” said Ianto. “I can get it dry-cleaned. Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I almost died today,” Gwen blurted out. Ianto tensed imperceptibly, then seemed to embrace her even tighter. 

“What?” he breathed out. “How did-”

“Weevil,” she explained, and he huffed. 

“You’re not going out alone anymore,” he declared. “It isn’t safe. Tell me or Jack next time, and we’ll go with you.”

“We don’t have enough people to feasibly do that,” she explained. “Anyway, I just thought - when I die, I want you to bury me. Don’t lock me up in the Hub-”

Ianto pulled her away and clutched her shoulders harshly. He looked at her, eyes stern. “You are not dying.”

“Ianto-”

“-No,” he cut her off, looking increasingly agitated. “You are not going to die soon. You are going to live a  _ long _ , healthy, happy life. I won’t let you.”

“We don’t know what will happen in the future,” Gwen said to him, and he squeezed her shoulders even tighter. 

“We do,” he demanded, shaking her wildly. “I won’t let it happen - do you understand me?”

Gwen reached out and touched his arm softly, and he stopped shaking her but didn’t stop staring at her, pleading. She realized with a start that this had more to do with Ianto than her. 

“Of course,” she lied, moving back closer to hug him again. And as she leaned against him, Gwen knew that this was the only way they could survive. By both of them knowing the truth and both lying shamelessly through their teeth. 

One of them would die first, probably soon, and the other would follow not long after. This was Torchwood, after all. 

Selfishly, she hoped they died together. If only to spare one of them the pain of having to bury the other. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos/Comments are appreciated!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](https://violetmessages.tumblr.com/)


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